Direct Gaze
"For the next two weeks, find a way—any way—to deceive me completely."
To deceive someone.
Deception. Lies. Fraud.
Ye Hajun's sudden proposal was a far harder demand than Han Yumae had expected—a young woman who prided herself on having lived an honest life.
And so the lies she had attempted over the past few days were clumsier than those of a child telling a falsehood for the first time.
During a sparring match, Han Yumae suddenly stumbled in an awkward fall and looked up at Ye Hajun.
"Ah! M-my ankle twisted…! Let's rest a moment, Hajun."
"…If you'd actually twisted your ankle, you wouldn't have fallen like that. Your voice is higher than usual, and the awkwardness is practically dripping off you."
"I-is that so? Let me try again."
And so on.
Another time, mid-spar, she suddenly pointed behind Ye Hajun with her hand.
"Hajun, behind you!"
"Behind me what? Your eyes didn't even go that way—you're still looking straight at me."
"…"
Ridiculous lies of that sort.
More than anything, getting caught in a lie brought a considerable wave of embarrassment and shame. At Ye Hajun's correction, Han Yumae's face flushed red as if it might burst; she sank to the training hall floor and hung her head.
"This is too hard…"
"You can't even fool me. Gal Hyeonsang would probably see through this kind of thing even more easily, wouldn't he?"
"Probably…"
Han Yumae gave a pitiful little smile.
"I'm going to get some air for a bit."
"Sure. I'll think things over too."
"Okay."
It had been a week since they'd started talking about lies. Half the time until the rematch with Gal Hyeonsang had already passed, and she still hadn't made any progress at all.
Watching this, the gallery spirits were beginning to raise concerns of their own.
Posting on the gallery without much thought, Ye Hajun suddenly found himself remembering Cheon Ryeonghwa—the one who had always tried to mess with him.
Come to think of it, I wonder how she's doing.
By her own account, Haomun would just give her a few swats on the rear and let it go—but there was no telling what had actually happened.
I can't go back to Cheongpyeong County… maybe I should at least send a letter.
To do that, he would have to learn to write first.
Might as well learn to write while I'm at it
He had considered asking them to ghostwrite a letter for him the way they had for the written exam last time—but if these people decided to mess with him for fun, he wasn't sure he could handle the fallout.
And so, casually concealing the truth with a lie, Ye Hajun posted on the gallery and sank into thought about how he might teach Han Yumae better.
"Haa…"
Stepping out of the training hall, Han Yumae washed her face with cold water from the well and fell into thought.
She knew she still wasn't improving. If anything, she felt like she was regressing. But her nature remained unchanged, so Han Yumae continued to wrestle with the problem of lying in the most honest way possible—turning it over and over in her mind.
Lies… deception, phantom swordplay… fraud… ugh…
For nearly a week, Han Yumae had not succeeded in deceiving Ye Hajun even once. She had considered asking someone else for advice, but in her mind, lying was a bad thing. A lingering guilt she couldn't quite place kept holding her back.
In the end, worry festered when it stayed locked inside.
This doesn't work, that doesn't work… it's so frustrating.
Even now, she had only come outside under the excuse of getting some air.
Suddenly, the day she first entered Mount Hua kept rising unbidden in her mind.
An endlessly upright child. Your sword may well achieve greatness somewhere other than Mount Hua. And still you wish to enter?
Yes.
For what reason?
Because Mount Hua's sword is the most beautiful.
The person of Mount Hua who heard those words had smiled with open delight and granted her entry.
In the early days after joining, she had been so slow to learn that people whispered she might be talentless. But being slow to learn was all it was—she progressed steadily, and surely, until at last she rose to a position representing Mount Hua itself.
That sure experience led Han Yumae, as always, to choose the method she knew.
Meeting it head-on.
I just have to work at it. If I keep working… it'll bear fruit.
When Han Yumae finally returned to the training hall, she faced Ye Hajun once more.
"Feeling any better?"
"Uh… yeah."
"That's a lie. Want to rest a little more?"
"No. I don't want to."
As Han Yumae adjusted her grip on her sword, Ye Hajun settled into his stance with a look that said he had no choice. And so the spar began again.
Her body swung the sword, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.
Why can't I do it? He caught me lying just now too… I hate this.
Trying to shake the thought free, Han Yumae reached again for a feint. What she needed right now was a single success. Self-assurance born of success.
But when she raised her blade as if aiming for his right shoulder to cut him down, he did not fall for it.
Again. Why can he read me every single time?
Could he see the next form that would naturally follow? Come to think of it, Hajun was skilled enough in martial study to read a technique's origin from the form alone.
Then I'll just break the form itself.
Thinking that, Han Yumae forced her wrist to twist and divert the trajectory—
"Ugh…!"
A sudden spike of pain made her drop her sword; she clutched her wrist and sank to the floor.
"Are you okay?"
Startled, Ye Hajun hurried over and carefully touched near her wrist. When he saw her body flinch slightly with the pain, he spoke.
"Looks like you're hurt. Let's get you to the infirmary."
"I'm… fine."
"That's a lie. Don't push yourself. If your wrist is injured, you won't be able to spar anyway."
Then Han Yumae asked in a drained voice,
"…Why don't you fall for it even now?"
"…"
Ye Hajun let out a breath, then lowered himself and took hold of her wrist.
"Let go. I'm fine. The spar isn't over yet."
"Hold still. Stop being stubborn."
Her voice was half on the verge of tears. Ye Hajun quietly tore a strip from his own clothes and began wrapping her wrist as he spoke.
"I've been watching you all day for days now. How am I supposed to not know whether you're lying or not?"
Carefully. Very slowly.
"If it's really too hard, you can give up. I was the one who suggested it in the first place, and before that you said being the face of Mount Hua was a burden. It's not even your face—there's no harm in setting it down for a little while. You've been pushing yourself lately, haven't you?"
"It showed?"
Securing her wrist, Ye Hajun continued.
"You're always sincere. You always look at one place with those upright eyes, so there's no way not to know. That's why I can always tell when you mean it and when you don't."
Finishing the bandage, Ye Hajun looked at her and asked,
"How is it? Tied well?"
Only then did Han Yumae lift her head and meet Ye Hajun's eyes.
He was always looking straight at her. Perhaps even at the parts of herself she had never tried to see.
Ah. So that's it.
If you don't look properly first, you won't see. And if the other person refuses to look, you have to make them see—even if you have to force it.
Something itched at the back of her mind. Han Yumae rose from her seat, forgetting even to wipe away the tears that had spilled.
"Um… Hajun. From now on, I'm going to try on my own."
"Huh? All of a sudden?"
"Yeah. It's fine. I think… I've got a lead on something."
There was no longer any shadow on Han Yumae's face as she said it, so Ye Hajun nodded.
"Alright."
One week later.
The day Han Yumae and Gal Hyeonsang were set to spar again.
In the end, unable to endure Cheonma's taunting, Anonymous 1 burst out in spirit form and started hounding Ye Hajun.
"You should have at least gone to check on Yumae!"
"Weren't you the one who said not to touch her and to look at her like a precious stone?"
"Truly, a fellow bound only by principle, with no sense of flexibility whatsoever."
"I don't understand when you use hard words~"
Listening to Anonymous 1's scolding that wasn't quite a scolding, Ye Hajun stepped out of the infirmary.
"Strange fellow. In any case, make sure you confirm Yumae's progress well. If she loses, steel yourself for what this Daoist will post on the gallery."
With that, Anonymous 1 vanished—and beyond where he had been, Han Yumae appeared.
It had been nearly a week since Ye Hajun had last seen her.
"What brings you to the physician? Is your wrist still hurting?"
"My wrist is fine. I came here because… I thought you'd be here. Wasn't today the day you take the bandage off?"
"Ah, this."
Ye Hajun lifted his bandaged right arm as he spoke.
"It's fully healed, so it's fine. The scarring's pretty bad, so I figured I'd keep it covered for now. I've also gotten used to having the bandage on while it was wrapped."
"Is that so?"
Saying that, Han Yumae wordlessly stepped in close and brought her face right up to Ye Hajun's. At her sudden approach, he jerked back and frowned.
"…What?"
In that same moment, a sudden sensation at his side made Ye Hajun jump in startlement—and Han Yumae burst out laughing at the sight.
"Well? That's my own personal 'trick.'"
"Ahh…"
The instant she had pushed in, his gaze had naturally followed, drawn after her—and a blind spot had opened.
Wondering what she had been doing for the past week, Ye Hajun saw the answer she had arrived at and nodded.
"Covering the eyes by draping something flashy over them?"
"That's right. You said it yourself back then—if I can't fool you, I won't be able to beat Senior Gal Hyeonsang. I thought through all kinds of things, and this felt the most like me."
Han Yumae went on.
"With this, I also have the conviction that I can win."
"Yeah?"
"So watch me. It's thanks to you, after all."
With that, Han Yumae took the lead with light steps.
Looks like she made some real progress.
What Han Yumae had done for a week. She had asked him to watch, so watch he would.
Ye Hajun smiled and followed after her.